


Slide

by fabulousanima



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, American Football, F/M, Halloween, Hot Chocolate, Ice Skating, Motorcycles, Movie Night, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulousanima/pseuds/fabulousanima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roller skate AU.  Soul doesn't know how to skate.  Maka offers to teach him.  He learns more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: You can entirely blame Eis for this. She drew a fantastic roller skate picture, and she graciously allowed me to explore this fic for it! And as I know we have a very international fandom, please feel free to find me on tumblr (fabulousanima) if there are any Americanisms that are difficult to understand. This is part 1 of 4.

_**September** _

Soul shut off his motorcycle as he pulled into the parking lot and pushed himself into spot with his feet. Dropping the kickstand, he dismounted and leaned against it, knowing that he had managed to adopt an image of being perfectly cool, which was a good thing, because he also knew he was about to totally embarrass himself.

He sighed as he saw Liz Thompson's truck pull into the parking lot, followed closely by the screeching tires of Black*Star's junky sedan. He was having a hard time remembering _why_ on earth he had agreed to this nonsense.

He did remember _when_ he'd agreed. It had been a lazy Saturday and he and Black*Star had decided to have a Battlefield marathon. They had left Black*Star's foster dad's place and walked to the convenience store nearby. Out of nowhere, a pack of twelve-year-old girls on roller skates had appeared and nearly ran them over. They were laughing and yelling, and they all started giggling madly when Black*Star pretended to chase them off in anger. “Man, I remember those days,” he had said, hands on his hips as they skated away. “Right?” And Soul had been forced to admit he had never actually been on roller skates a day in his life. His parents had never invested in many toys when he was a kid, choosing to only purchase music books and lessons and records for their sons and allowing very few things to cross the threshold of their mansion that would be classified as _fun_. Apparently, he had missed out, because Black*Star insisted that they had to go to the local rink so he could experience it. So here they were.

“Yo man!” shouted Black*Star as he hopped out the car, trailed by his girlfriend. The sisters hopped down out of their truck behind him. Soul nodded to the gaggle of girls behind his boisterous friend, then addressed him.

“Let's get this over with.”

“Aw c'mon, you'll have fun!” With that, Black*Star motioned towards the entrance. Soul pushed off his motorcycle with a snort.

Soul squinted through the darkness as he entered, trying to adjust to the dim lights of the roller skate rink interior after having been in the glaring sun of the parking lot. Black*Star slapped him on the back as he passed, and Soul grunted.

“C’mon, let’s go rent some skates!” he shouted eagerly. “Don’t keep me waiting, slowpokes!”

Tsubaki giggled as she walked by Soul, followed by the two bickering sisters. Soul jammed his hands in his pockets, a scowl across his face. Sure, he had agreed to come to this dingy place, but now that he was here, he was having second thoughts.

Soul approached the counter with the others where a short girl in pigtails was reading a book. She sat on an awkward angle on her stool, perched precariously, but it was clear that she was too absorbed in her novel to notice. Soul was surprised when Black*Star gave a loud crow and raised his hand in greeting as he advanced.

“Hey Maka! I didn’t know you worked here! Got a new job, huh, Pigtails?”

The girl — Maka, apparently — looked up and smiled in surprise. “Oh, hi Black*Star! Yeah, I do work here now; that pizza place was super stressful, so I decided it was time for a change.”

She leaned to the side to peer behind him, and Black*Star seemed to notice her curiosity. “Oh yeah! These are my loyal followers!” Soul rolled his eyes, but it was too dark for anyone to see. “You’ve met my girlfriend before, right?”

“Tsubaki, right?” Maka asked, and Tsubaki nodded.

“Nice to see you again.”

“And this is Liz and Patty.”

“Hi!”

“Hey.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” said Maka.

“Oh, and this — stop skulking, Soul — this is Soul.” Soul grunted again, but moved forward to get a better look at the thin girl behind the counter. She was athletically built and looked young for her age, but her green eyes were large and luminous even in the dark of the rink.

“I’m Maka,” she said, smiling at him. He merely nodded.

“Hey, can you believe it? This guy’s never roller skated a day in his life!” Black*Star laughed uproariously as he pounded on Soul’s back, thrusting him forward. Soul scowled.

“Really?” Maka asked, her eyebrows raised. Soul was prepared to snap at her, but she hadn’t said it maliciously, so he bit back the scathing words and shook his head. She cocked her head to the side, one of her pigtails trailing across the pages of her open book as she studied him. “Want me to teach you?”

Soul felt his jaw tighten slightly and shrugged.

“Ha! You should totally teach him, take him under your wing!” yelled Black*Star, throwing an arm around Soul's shoulders.

Maka smiled again. “Lemme grab everyone some skates, then I'll ask Kim to man the front desk. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

“Are you allowed to take a break like that?” asked Tsubaki.

“Oh yeah! The manager likes to have one of the employees on the rink to make sure no roughhousing is going on or whatever. What's everyone's shoe sizes?”

The group all shouted out numbers, and Soul was impressed when Maka grabbed a bunch of pairs of skates and handed them out properly. She shouted to a short girl with pink hair on the rink, who waved to her and skated to the edge of the rink. The girl took her skates off while the group maneuvered to the ledge where the carpet ended. Soul took his skates from Maka as she held up her own pair. “All right! Skating is really easy, you just have to get the hang of it.”

“Maybe. I'm just gonna look so uncool while I'm learning,” he grumbled. Maka giggled.

“But these are your friends! They won't tease you.”

Soul begged to differ, but refrained from commenting. He slowly removed his boots and laced up the beat-up skates Maka had offered him. She was already on her wheeled feet, hands on her hips as she waited for him. Once he was ready, she extended her hand. He took it. He was a bit surprised by her firm grip as she pulled him to his feet. He stood in front of her, and she shook his hand ever so slightly, gaze unwavering. But the moment was ruined when Patty whizzed by them, slapping Soul's backside on her way. He growled and reddened, turning to yell at her, but he lost his balance and pitched forward. Maka braced herself and caught him, but not before his pride suffered several low blows.

“Ready?” she asked. Soul grunted.

She straightened him up, then switched her hold on his hand so that they could skate side-by-side comfortably. Soul was mortified to find that he was terrible at it. His feet kept shooting out from under him, and the only reason he was still upright was Maka's hand in his.

“It's easy! It's just a slide and glide, one foot in front of the other. Like this.” She demonstrated, albeit slowly due to his dead weight dragging behind her. “Got it?” Soul scowled, but tried to imitate her actions.

“So how come I haven't seen you around before?” she asked conversationally.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“I mean, do you go to school with us? I don't think I've seen you there.”

“Oh. No, I go to private school. Shibusen Prep.”

“Oh wow! You must be a really good student,” she said, smiling widely at him.

“Uh...”

“Really? What are you doing there, then?” Maka pouted. “I would have loved to go there, but my parents couldn't afford it.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, my parents are pretty much making me,” grumbled Soul. “Wasn't really a choice.”

“So how do you know Black*Star then?”

“I met him at the record store. The one where Liz works. He was just hanging out with her and I come in often enough, and we just started shooting the shit, y'know.” Soul looked curiously at her. “What about you? How do you know him?”

“Look, we made it around the entire rink!” she said happily, and Soul rolled his eyes. What an accomplishment. He'd looked like a drunk duck while doing it, so he didn't feel particularly proud. “He and I have known each other since we were kids. He and his guardian Sid used to live across the street from us, but they moved a few years ago to be closer to Sid's work. We still see each other in school though.”

“Death City High?”

“Yeah,” she said.

They skated in silence for a few more minutes, lapping the rink again for a grand total of two times.

“I think you're getting the hang of this!” Maka said happily. Soul let out a hollow laugh.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“No, try!” she said, and let go of his hand. Soul slid forward a few feet, but felt himself falling. His arms windmilled and he grabbed blindly to keep himself standing. He felt his hand catch something warm and looked up to see Maka's horrified expression; he had managed to hook himself into the back pocket of her shorts, practically fondling her ass. He righted himself quickly, shocked to see the sheer anger in her eyes, when she shoved him hard and he glided backwards into the wall. She threw him one last nasty look, then skated off.

Soul watched her glide away, stymied by her reaction. Her pigtails streamed behind her as she quickly left him behind.

“Everything okay?” asked a voice behind Soul, and he twisted without letting go of the wall to see who was there. Black*Star was raising an eyebrow at him.

“Maka freaked out when I fell and accidentally grabbed her ass. What the hell?”

“It was an accident?” Black*Star asked sharply.

“Of course, man, whaddya take me for?”

Black*Star sighed. “Yeah, okay. Maka doesn't handle that kinda thing well.”

“What, is she not into dudes?”

Black*Star grimaced. “Might be easier on her that way. No, it's that she has a bad track record.”

Soul arched an eyebrow at his friend. Black*Star continued.

“Her old man. Real skeezeball. Cheated on her mom a bunch of times. They're divorced now, but Maka still lives with him 'cause her mom travels or some shit. She doesn't get along with him. Plus there was this senior last year, Giriko, who cornered her one day after school.”

“Shit. What happened?”

Black*Star snorted. “She broke his foot and two of his fingers. But she was pretty angry about it for a while, and kinda swore off men.”

“Why's she still friends with you, then?”

“'Cause we're like brother and sister. She's just weird if she thinks you're gonna try something.”

Soul watched her skate around the rink. Her long legs were thin but powerful, and she glided effortlessly step by step. She seemed to notice his gaze, and she turned to meet his stare.

“All right! Want me to keep teaching ya?” Black*Star asked cheerily.

Soul grimaced at him.

“I got him,” Maka said, appearing suddenly behind them. Soul looked at her gratefully.

“All yours, Maks!”

Maka extended her hand again, and Soul took it. He pushed off from the wall and she steadied him. They quickly regained a rhythm and took off again around the rink.

“Sorry for grabbing you, by the way. It _was_ an accident, but it still wasn't cool of me.”

Maka sighed. “Thanks, but I kinda overreacted. I could tell it wasn't on purpose by the look on your face.”

“Why, what face was I making?”

“You turned bright red!”

He groaned. “So uncool.” Maka giggled. They spent the rest of the time chatting happily, and when it was time to go (the sun was already setting?), Maka escorted them to the entrance. She walked the group out to the parking lot, and looked surprised to see Soul approach his motorcycle.

“You ride that?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he said, throwing a grin her way. “You ever been on one?”

“No!” Maka said, but her eyes widened as she saw him mount it. “It's dangerous.”

“Yeah, but it's also fun.”

Maka gave him a look that was hard to interpret, but waved to the others as they retreated to their cars. “Well, be careful,” said Maka, looking apprehensively at the bike as Soul revved the engine. She met his eyes. “See you around,” she said, and he knew she meant it.

 

* * *

 

Soul contemplated the twenty-seven different kinds of chips in front of him. He was a bit bemused by all his choices. Shrugging, he grabbed a bag at random and moved on to the soda aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of ashy blonde pigtails he thought he recognized. Immediately changing his trajectory, he detoured into the bread aisle. “Maka?”

She whipped her head around, a look of surprise on her face. She smiled, and reached up to pull her ear bud out. “Oh, hi Soul!”

“What are listening to?”

She offered him her loose headphone, and he stuck it into his ear. Loud pulsing techno beats bored into his skull, and he gave her a skeptical look. “You listen to this techno trash?”

Out of nowhere, she produced a book and smacked him on the arm. “Shut up,” she pouted.

“Ow! That actually kinda hurt...”

“Like you have better taste in music?”

“Um, yes.”

She turned her nose up at him, and returned to examining the various loaves of bread in front of her.

“All right, all right, sorry. Maybe someday we'll work on your musical education.”

“Maybe you should worry about your own academic education first.”

Soul laughed. Maka gave him a grudging smile. “Fair enough, bookworm. Maybe I should get you to tutor me.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she giggled. “So what are you getting tonight?”

“I realized I didn't have much in the house for lunches, so I'm buying sandwich stuff. It's just me and my dad, and he's not always great at remembering to get groceries.”

“Yeah, Black*Star mentioned that it was just the two of you. Sorry about that.”

She shrugged. “What about you? Are your parents still together?”

“Uh, yeah. I have an older brother, but he moved out already.”

“I've always wanted siblings. Do you guys get along?”

Soul shrugged one shoulder. “More or less.” He quickly changed the subject. “By the way, are you gonna go to the Death High football game on Friday? Black*Star's playing and he told me to come. I was thinking about going, might be a good time.”

“I hadn't thought about it, but Black*Star is always saying I need to watch him play...”

“Have you not seen him yet?”

Maka rolled her eyes. “I've seen him all right. I was what he used to practice his tackling on for years.”

He chuckled. “Sounds about right. So you gonna come?”

“Yeah, why not?” she replied with a smile.

“Here, I can give you my number so we can meet up.”

“Okay!” Maka pulled out her phone and offered it to Soul. He quickly tapped out his name and number and saved the contact. He handed it back over, and she typed something just as rapidly. “All right, I just sent you mine.”

Soul felt his pocket vibrate, and he reached for his own phone. He had a new text message that simply read **Maka Albarn**.

 

* * *

 

“Up here!” came a familiar voice. Soul looked up to see Maka standing in the bleachers next to Tsubaki, waving frantically at him. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed through some of the other onlookers to stand next to them. Tsubaki smiled at him as Maka hopped off the bench to stand on the floor of their aisle.

“Sorry I'm a little late,” he said. “Your school is huge, by the way.”

“Yeah I know!” said Maka, her voice raised to be heard over the cheering of the crowd. Tsubaki was clapping loudly while watching the field, clad in Black*Star's letter jacket.

“Did I miss anything interesting?”

“I don't think so. I don't really know much about football, I just kinda cheer when everyone else does.”

Soul chuckled, and turned to gaze down onto the field. “What number is Black*Star?” he asked Tsubaki.

“42!” she replied happily.

Soul scanned the playing field and located his friend. “I see him.”

“Our team should be good this year!” Tsubaki said. “I'm really excited for Black*Star. He hates losing.”

“I never knew,” Soul deadpanned, and Maka's laugh came from his right. They watched the game for another half an hour, cheering and groaning along with the crowd. Tsubaki was really absorbed in it, but Soul and Maka chatted while they watched, neither being particularly invested in high school football. After a while, Soul said, “Wanna get some food?” and Maka nodded. They thumped down the bleachers, metal echoes lost in the noise of the crowd.

They approached the small concession stand. “What do you want?” Soul asked as they joined the back of the line.

“I think I'll get a hot dog,” she mused.

“Are they any good here?”

“I hope so, because I'm starving!”

Soul laughed as they reached the window. A harried looking student turned to them.

“Oh. Hi Maka.”

“Hi Ox. Having fun?” The boy sneered slightly at her.

“Two hot dogs,” Soul interjected.

“Oh! You don't have to,” Maka said, protesting as Soul pulled out his wallet first.

“Maka, it's like three bucks, it's no big deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Soul reached out and took his hot dog from the disheveled Ox and they made their way to a small table with condiments. The ketchup had, for some reason, exploded everywhere, so everything was sticky, but they managed to get what they wanted with minimal levels of sliminess. Soul was impressed by how quickly Maka ate; for a girl so skinny, she had an enormous appetite. They threw out their napkins, which hadn't done much more than stick to their fingers in tiny white clumps, then climbed back up the bleachers to rejoin Tsubaki.

“So how are we doing?” asked Soul.

“We're winning!” said Tsubaki, jumping up and down. She turned her attention back to the game, cheering loudly. Soul noticed that Maka kept her arms wrapped around herself despite the latest touchdown, which usually prompted clapping.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Here,” said Soul, shrugging out of his leather jacket.

“Oh no, it's fine! I don't want you to be cold.”

“Nah, I'll be okay. I'm like a space heater, I'm always overheated. But the jacket makes me look pretty cool, so I wear it anyway.”

Maka snorted, and accepted his jacket. She slipped it around herself, and it engulfed her. “Thanks,” she said, redirecting her gaze back to the field, but Soul kept watching her for a few more moments. She looked so tiny in it, and something stirred in the region of his navel as he looked at her protected from the cold by his jacket.


	2. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Again, any Americanisms that are unclear, you can message me on tumblr (fabulousanima) or leave a comment and I'll get back to you.

_**October** _

“You're gonna wanna hold tighter.”

“Are you sure it won't hurt you?”

“I'm sure. Not made of glass.”

Maka squeezed her arms around his waist more firmly. “Okay,” she said, sounding nervous. “I think I'm ready.”

“Maka, I've been riding my bike without any problems for over a year. I promise you're not gonna fall.”

“I know!”

“Then why do you look like you're gonna be sick?”

She buried her face in his back, the edge of her helmet digging into his muscles. “Just go,” she said weakly. Soul chuckled, and revved the engine. Maka tightened her grip even further; he revved it again for good measure. He pushed off and gunned it. She shrieked at him to slow down, but he only chuckled. They swerved around corners and up streets that Soul knew like the back of his hand. Maka screamed obscenities into his ear over the roar of the wind. As they got out further away from the city, her swears tapered off, and she finally looked up, twisting her head this way and that, taking in the view.

Soul was traveling one of the more scenic routes he knew. He felt Maka's grip loosen slightly as she leaned back to allow more wind in her face. After a while, they reached the outlook he had in mind. Soul pulled over. He switched off the motorcycle and Maka dismounted, a little bow-legged. She turned to look at him, beaming.

“That was awesome!”

“Told ya.”

She turned back to the scene in front of her. “What a view!” She glanced over her shoulder with a little bit of trepidation in her eyes. “That is why we're here, right?”

Soul leaned over the handles of the bike to leer at her cheekily. “Afraid I have other intentions?”

She rolled her eyes, but Soul continued.

“Yeah, that's why we're here. This is my favorite place in Death City.”

“It's gorgeous.”

Soul nodded, slowly shifting his gaze from her thin frame to the scene behind her. They stayed that way, admiring the view, for a long time. Eventually, feeling a slight chill in the air, Soul asked, “Ready to head back?”

Maka undid her hair ties, allowing her hair to swirl around her shoulders. “Ready.”

It was a little more awkward having her hold onto him while grasping the helmet between her hands, but they managed. Her hair whipped in the air freely as they hugged the curves of the road. They meandered their way back into town, at which point Soul slowed his pace and allowed Maka to guide him through her neighborhood. Finally, they pulled up in front of a modest house that Maka said was hers. She got off the bike again and held out the helmet.

“Thanks so much, Soul. That was really--”

“ _What are you doing with my daughter, you delinquent!_ ”

Maka whipped her head around and Soul saw a thin man storm out of her front door and down the lawn.

“You! Get away from my Maka!”

“Papa, please--!”

“You keep your stinking hands off--”

“Calm down, old man,” Soul said scathingly, glaring as Maka's father approached. The man's face grew an angry red, matching his ruddy hair. “Don't get your panties in a twist.”

“Listen, you little punk, you stay away from my daughter.”

“Your daughter can decide who to hang out with herself.” He turned to Maka, who looked furious, and Soul strongly suspected she would soon produce a book and teach her devoted father a lesson. “See you around.”

“Yeah, see you around, Soul,” she said firmly, then whirled on her father. Her shrill yells reached his ears even over the sound of him starting up his engine again and rolling out of there. He felt irrationally angry; who was that jerk to have _any_ opinion on what his daughter did after he had screwed around so much? He snarled into the wind, the helmet bouncing against the grips.

He got a text from her later that night. _**I'm really sorry about my dad. He can be such a jerk sometimes.**_

_**no problem. i dont let people like that bother me** _

_**Well, I don't think it will happen again. I think I made myself pretty clear on the fact that I'll be friends with whomever I want.** _

_**cool. and did you really just say whomever in a text message jeez you're such a nerd** _

_**Shut up Soul.** _

 

* * *

 

Soul realized just before he pushed open the door of the roller skating rink that this might not actually be a good idea. What if she wasn't working today? What if she didn't appreciate him dropping by her work unannounced? He hesitated in the entrance, but decided that he was already there, so he might as well find out. He could always leave if she told him too.

She is not at the front desk this time. Instead, the girl with pink hair sat behind the counter, looking bored and playing with her phone. She glanced up to give Soul the once over.

“Weren't you here a few weeks ago.” She stated it rather than asked.

“Yeah. Is Maka working?”

“She's on skate duty.”

Soul pulled his wallet out and slapped a ten on the counter. The girl pulled it towards her and took her time punching at the ancient register before handing him back three singles. “Size?”

“Ten.”

She shuffled behind the counter and pulled out a pair of battered skates. Soul took them from her and moved over to the rink. He spotted Maka right away, skating effortlessly around the patrons. As she came back around towards him, he waved at her. He watched her face brighten as she spotted him. She slid into the wall that he was leaning over, looking up at him.

“Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Figured I'd get a second skating lesson. If you're up for it.”

“Sure. Maybe this time you won't need to hold my hand the entire time.”

“Maybe,” he said evasively. “Meet you out there.”

Within a few minutes, he was wobbling around the rink, Maka's hand firmly gripped in his. “You're definitely getting the hang of it,” she said cheerfully.

“I'm pretty sure you're the only reason I'm not eating pavement right now.”

Maka laughed. He smiled at her, pleased at how easy it was to make her giggle. She had a nice laugh, but she was so serious sometimes, doing school work and having a part time job.

“So why are you working this gig, anyway?”

“Well, I'd really like to go to an Ivy League school someday, but I don't know if I'll get all the financial aid I need, so I'm trying to save up. I was working at a pizza parlor for a while, but the patrons were awful. So demanding! I'm making about the same here, but I'm not working for tips anymore, so I'm paying more in taxes. At least I'm enjoying myself more.”

“What if you charged for skate lessons?” Soul blurted out.

“I... never thought about that. I don't know if the rink does classes or anything. But it's an interesting idea!”

Soul thought about his parents' stock portfolios and CDs, and the 529 account in his name, and the savings bonds his grandmother had sent him every year on his birthday, sitting and waiting until he turned 18. He glanced sideways at Maka, who seemed to be ruminating on his idea about how to make another couple hundred bucks a year. He felt his stomach churn unpleasantly.

“It sucks,” he said lowly, barely paying attention to his skating; he was doing rather well.

“What does?”

“People who are really smart who have to take out a million loans to go to school,” said Soul. “It sucks.”

He felt Maka's fingers grip his a little tighter. “Thanks, Soul,” she said. “I think I should be able to manage, though. My dad has more money saved up than I would have ever thought possible for someone who likes to go to cabaret clubs on the weekends,” she said bitterly. “Plus my Mama has an account she set aside for me. But I do agree, it sucks. Where do you wanna go to college?”

Soul was caught off guard. No one had ever asked him that before.

“Uh, my parents want to me to apply to Julliard. Or Berklee. Or whatever.”

“But where do _you_ wanna go?”

Soul felt himself losing his balance, and his arm shot out to try to keep him upright. Maka steadied him. “I dunno,” he said.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno.”

She blinked owlishly at him for a moment. “Well, you still have time to figure that out. You're only a junior.” They skated in silence for another few minutes. “Here, try this.” She reached out for his other hand. He allowed her to take it, but was surprised when she swung herself out in front of him.

“Go ahead, keep skating!” she said.

“But--” Maka grinned cheekily, and he saw that she was just as able to skate backwards as forwards. “ _Damn_ , you're good.”

She wrinkled her nose in pleasure, and they kept going, skating around the rink in a wide circle, linked hand in hand almost as if they were dancing. Maka kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure they didn't ram into the walls.

“You're really good,” Soul couldn't help but repeat.

“You're the one leading, I'm just making sure we keep sliding,” she said, lashing her pigtails back and forth. “Hey!” she called out, spotting a group of middle school boys pushing each other roughly. “Stop that or you're off the rink.” They skated by the pair, and the boys shot Maka nasty looks. Soul gave them his most fearsome sneer, and they looked a little startled.

“Looks like you're good at scaring little kids,” Maka said with a smirk.

“It's a gift.” He gave her a shit-eating grin.

Her smile softened. “Yeah, but we both know you're a big softy at heart.” He couldn't look away from her piercing green gaze.

 

* * *

 

“ _Why_ did I agree to this again?” moaned Liz.

“Oh, come on, it'll be fun!” cried Patty. Her older sister whimpered.

“Maka better get here soon, we're getting closer to the entrance!” shouted Black*Star.

“It's a slow moving line, don't worry about it,” said Soul.

The people waiting in line were chatting amiably, some dressed in costume. The group of friends stood in the front half of the line, but they were not getting anywhere fast. It was a week before Halloween and the haunted house was packed. The local amusement park was not particularly big, but it did put on an impressive Halloween celebration every year. Black*Star had come up with the idea that they all go together, but Maka had texted that evening to say she was running late, so they had gotten in line without her, knowing it would take a long time to get up to the front.

“I swear, if she's not here soon--”

“Calm down, Black*Star, we're here.” Soul turned to see that Maka had appeared at his elbow. She had in tow a tall boy who was wearing a disdainful expression on his face, his yellow eyes roving the crowd with disinterest. “This is Kid,” Maka introduced, and he nodded politely at everyone.

“Why were you late?” asked Soul.

“We had an incident,” Maka said, but she didn't elaborate. Soul could have sworn he heard the new guy mutter something under his breath about 7:30 being a terrible time to meet and why couldn't they have just made it half an hour later.

The line moved forward slightly. “Ooh, I _really_ don't want to do this. I hate scary things!” said Liz, bringing her thumb to her mouth to nibble nervously on the perfectly manicured nail.

“Do you?” asked Kid lightly. “Why is that?”

“Um, because they're scary?” she answered. “Don't tell me you _like_ scary shit.”

“I do, in fact. I am quite interested in the macabre.”

Liz gave him a look. “Does that mean I can hide behind your arm the whole time and you won't run away and leave me in there by myself, like what happened _last_ time?” She shot her sister a dirty look.

“I suppose--” Liz latched onto Kid's arm.

Soul let them pull ahead of him and Maka in line so that by the time their large group got to the front, the man ushering people into the house signaled for the two of them to enter last. The man had been putting people through two at a time at one minute intervals (although Patty didn't listen and ran in after her cowering sister and Kid anyway), so Soul and Maka waited patiently for their turn.

“Wow!” Maka said, looking at the man beside them. “That's a great outfit! The screw in your head really makes the costume.”

The man blinked at her. “Right. My costume. Go on in,” he said, and they entered the darkened corridor.

The first room was nothing too scary; just a room designed to look like the foyer of a decaying Victorian mansion. The rooms grew progressively darker and dirtier, but it wasn't until the sixth room that they encountered their first actor. The man jumped out at them and growled loudly, though he had a tattoo over one eyebrow, and Soul thought it looked a little silly with the werewolf costume. Still, Maka jumped, a hand flying to her heart.

After a few more rooms with some fake blood dripping down the walls, the next actor appeared, this time dressed as a chainsaw-wielding madman. This time, Maka screeched and grabbed onto Soul's upper arm, her grip like a vice. For a moment, the man seemed to break character and just stared at them, then slunk back into the shadows. Maka didn't release Soul even after they left the room.

Eventually they reached what looked like a throne room. At first they didn't realize that the woman sitting on a large chair covered in cobwebs (or at least, cotton balls) was actually real, she was sitting so still.

“That dress is kinda over the top,” Maka whispered in Soul's ear.

Soon they entered a constructed graveyard. A woman wearing a wig full of snakes jumped out from behind a particularly large tombstone. Maka jumped again, but Soul stared at her for a minute. “Aren't you the school nurse at Shibusen Prep?” The woman pressed a finger to her lips and hid behind the grave again.

Soul heard a bone-chilling shriek from up ahead that he strongly suspected came from Liz. It seemed to send a shiver up Maka's spine, however, because she trembled against him. He extracted his arm from her iron grip and slid it around her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his chest.

“This is definitely scarier than it was a few years ago,” she said quietly as they moved through the makeshift graveyard.

“Yeah, I think they raised their budget or something.”

“Soul--”

There was a shout and a thin figure appeared out of nowhere, swinging a large black sword. Soul had to admit even he jumped at that, but Maka screamed and dove behind him. “Oh, thanks, sacrifice me,” he said sarcastically. “Hey, buddy, get that sword out of my face. Not supposed to touch the guests.” He wanted to make a scathing remark to the kid about how the pink wig ruined the whole effect, but Maka dragged him away.

“I wasn't sacrificing you!”

“Maka, it's fine, it was a--”

“I just knew you'd protect me.” Soul felt a slight warmth creep into his cheeks, and he was very grateful for the darkness. They spotted their friends up ahead reaching the end of the haunted trail, and they continued forward to join them. They were almost at the exit when Soul spotted a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a small demon puppet hidden behind a tree. Something made a chill crawl up his spine, but he felt Maka slip her hand back into his, and they left the attraction.

“What did you guys think?” asked Black*Star excitedly once they had caught up with the rest of their friends. “So much better than last year, right?”

Soul slid his gaze down to where his fingers were still intertwined with Maka's. “Yeah. Much better than last year.”


	3. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I meant to get this out much sooner than this, but Anime Boston and preparations got in the way, so I apologize for the delay. Hopefully I'll get the last chapter out much more quickly. Enjoy!

_**November** _

Maka danced from foot to foot. “You guys _promise_ not to break anything?”

“We promise.”

“You _promise_ not to--”

“Maka! Open the damn doors!”

Maka let out a whine, but turned and slid the key into the locked doors of the roller skating rink. She had very recently been promoted to a keyholder, and her friends had already managed to pressure her into abusing her powers. They filed into the darkened rink, cheerfully chatting about their newest adventure. Soul entered last, swatting her playfully on the thigh with the hockey stick Black*Star let him borrow. Maka rolled her eyes, and closed the doors behind them.

“No, no, let me do it!” Maka whispered shrilly, waving at Black*Star as he tried to go behind the counter. He backed up, hands in the air; he knew not to push Maka any further than necessary. She slipped in and started passing out skates with a crease between her brow. She somehow had managed to remember everyone's sizes, though she did have to ask for Kid's; he had never been before, and he took the beat-up skates with a look of distaste.

Soul watched Maka flit nervously into the back room, and within moments, the lights above the rink flickered on. She reappeared, looking a little flustered, and joined her friends in lacing up her skates. They shuffled across the carpet to the depression in the floor of the rink.

“Okay,” she said, as they all got out onto the well-waxed floor. “Don't leave any weird scuff marks or dents in the sides or--”

“ _We get it._ We'll be careful. Just have fun!” Black*Star said. Maka gave one last nervous look around, then nodded.

“Who's captain?” asked Soul.

“Me and Maka,” answered Black*Star quickly.

“We didn't even get to vote!” exclaimed Patty.

“You don't want us on the same team,” Black*Star said with a leer. Maka grinned despite herself, and Soul was struck by the identical looks in their eyes.

Black*Star, Soul, and Tsubaki squared off against Maka, Patty, and Kid; Liz waved lazily from the sidelines, agreeing to tap in when someone got winded. The small rubber ball sat on the floor between Maka and Black*Star's hockey sticks. Liz shouted “Go!” and all hell broke loose.

Soul understood what Black*Star meant: he and Maka were _aggressive_ , and having the two of them pitted against one another was a much safer venture. Their sticks slapped at each in a furious bid for the puck until Black*Star managed to maneuver it between her skates, and he was off. There wasn't much finesse to their styles – neither played hockey in any sort of capacity often – but they were both excellent athletes, and it was clear to Soul that in a game where no one was particularly talented at the sport, that was all they needed.

The puck was transferred from team to team. Tsubaki was fairly good, but wasn't assertive enough when handling the puck, and often had it stolen from her. Patty was almost as aggressive as Black*Star or Maka, but she easily got distracted talking to her sister on the sidelines or looking at the artwork on the walls or teasing Kid for his abysmal playing. Soul had figured out that he and Maka were in an AP class together in school, and that their fathers worked together. He might have been a little put off by their closeness had Maka not once confided in Soul that the guy was neurotic to the point of being unable to function, and it was showing during this game. Kid kept trying to hold his hockey stick so that it was balanced evenly in his two hands, but there was simply no way to do so and play the game properly. Maka's team was losing, and her playing grew more erratic and angry.

Soul found himself with the ball, and turned over his shoulder to pass to Tsubaki when Maka came barreling at him at full speed. He panicked, skating away from her (and stumbling only slightly; he had gotten so much better). He tried to keep the puck safely behind his wooden hockey stick, but Maka kept swatting at his skates, trying to trip him up.

“Would you--”

“No!”

Soul struggled to get away from Maka, but she was too quick for him. She cut him off in every direction he tried to swerve; she was still the better skater. He could hear Black*Star shouting at him to pass it over, but Soul could barely keep Maka away from the puck, let alone control it long enough to successfully pass it.

“Hey,” he growled, mouth close to her ear as she slapped at him particularly viciously. This seemed to throw her off balance somehow, because she jerked and turned her large eyes to meet his angry gaze. Her mouth was a little slack, and she seemed momentarily stymied.

Soul saw his opening, and he took it. He darted to the right. Maka noticed what he was doing a split second too late, but launched herself after him anyway. He smacked the ball as hard as he could in the direction of his teammates, feeling momentarily triumphant before Maka slammed into him. His back hit the low wall behind him with a thud, and he lost his balance, dragging Maka with him as she also struggled to stay upright, their hockey sticks tangled. The ledge digging painfully into the small of his back was not nearly so distracting as her chest flush against his for a beat, her eyes meeting his again with her wide stare. But then she pushed off him roughly and skated away after the puck.

Maka seemed to give him a wide berth the rest of the game. She also seemed to be getting more and more frustrated, and when the game was finally called because Liz had lost track of the score after Soul's team had pulled ahead by 16, Maka sank to her knees with a loud groan that even Black*Star's yell of triumph could not drown out.

Everyone skated back to the edge of the rink. Maka clumped over to a plastic chair and sat down heavily. She was in the process of removing her skates when Soul appeared above her.

“You okay?” he asked evenly. She met his gaze with a blank stare, but then smiled.

“Yeah. I just get a little competitive!” Soul narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied her carefully, noticing a light dusting of pink behind her freckles. She cocked her head at him. “Are you?”

“Well, aside from the fact that you realigned my spine, yeah,” he said, smirking at her. She smacked his knee with the back of her hand. “See, now you're trying to knock me over! I'm still in skates! You're so violent.”

“I am not!” she protested, pouting.

“Tell you what. Gimme a massage to put my back where it belongs, and we'll call it even.” She gave him a skeptical look, but he kept grinning, and she relented, gesturing at the floor in front of her. Soul plopped down in front of her, extending his legs in front of him with an exaggerated sigh. He tugged half-heartedly at the laces of his skates as he felt Maka's thin fingers wrap around his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. Eventually, he kicked his skates off as her thumbs massaged his shoulder blades.

“Your feet smell,” she told him.

“Do not.”

“Do too!”

Maka pressed her small fingers into his back, and Soul felt a tingle run down his spine. They stayed where they were for another few minutes before Maka withdrew her hands. “What time is is?” she mused, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Oh no! It's almost one in the morning!” The other conversations buzzing in the room grew silent, and everyone gathered up their things. Maka darted into the back room again, and the rink grew dark. She hustled her friends to the front doors and into the crisp autumn air.

Maka disappeared into the night towards her car, but not before wrapping her arms around Soul's middle for a quick hug right before he climbed into the back of Black*Star's sedan. He watched her open her driver's door, illuminating her glowing face briefly before she slid inside and shut it, throwing everything into darkness once again.

 

* * *

 

“Popcorn!” Maka said joyfully, holding aloft two large buckets as she reentered her living room. Everyone cheered.

Maka's father had been banished from the house for the evening; Soul suspected he knew exactly where the old man had gone, but it did mean that he wouldn't be getting dark looks all evening. Spirit Albarn had taken to glowering at Soul whenever he saw the younger man after their first encounter, and tonight before Spirit left had been no different. Soul made note of the fact that neither Kid nor Black*Star received the same treatment.

But it was a sign of Maka's good mood that she had not even batted an eyelash when she'd told her father to make himself scarce that evening, so Soul wasn't going to pursue the issue. She set the two bowls on the coffee table and plopped herself down on the couch between Soul and Patty. Maka's forearm rested against his comfortably.

“Yes! Movie night!” Patty said excitedly.

“Which should we watch first?” Black*Star held up two DVD cases. Patty leaned over Maka and Soul to tap eagerly on one of them. “Awesome!”

“Don't the rest of use get any say?” asked Kid, arching an eyebrow, though there was a smile in his voice.

“Nope!” cried Black*Star, jumping up to put the movie on.

Maka laughed from Soul's side, and he could feel the ripple of her chuckles against him.

They started the movie, everyone munching on handfuls of popcorn. It was full of violence and action and Soul was loving it, but he could see Maka's skeptical look out of the corner of his eye. “That's such a glaring plot hole!” she whispered, suddenly right next to his ear. He tried to ignore the goosebumps that erupted up and down his arms.

“What about it?” he asked, not really focusing on her words.

She leaned in closer, her lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “That first woman told him that he couldn't make it out of the computer program if he got caught by the police, but the police arrested him and now he's escaping! They are setting up a logical fallacy and completely disregarding the rules they're establishing in their own universe...” Soul was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the movie. He shifted very slightly in his seat. Maka kept up a steady stream of criticism, apparently completely unaware of the effect she was having on him.

Finally, Patty came to his rescue, smacking Maka on the leg. “Shh! I can't hear the movie!”

Maka crossed her arms and sat back in a huff. Her motion placed her deeper into the sofa cushions, which meant Soul's arm now rested on top of hers. After another few minutes, she tilted her head slightly to lean against it, her cheek pressing against his sleeve, which sent Soul's mind racing a mile a minute.

Was he one of the few males that Maka was willing to trust? Or did she think of him in such non-romantic terms that he was no longer a threat? The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the best friendship he had ever had; they had been texting practically nonstop since they'd first exchanged numbers, long into the wee hours of the night. She never pressed him for answers to questions he didn't like to answer: why he rarely talked to his parents, why he never played the piano in front of anyone, why his brother had moved to the West Coast, why he hated thinking about the future. At the same time, she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say when he _did_ answer, which actually made him more inclined to respond to her queries. He felt the most comfortable with her out of all his friends (Black*Star was great, but it tended to be a mind-numbingly experience; with Maka, it was the opposite, feeling stimulated around her). She seemed to be something of a cuddly person, but he was paralyzed whenever she started snuggling. What if he tried to hold her in such a way that made her think he was being creepy, like that senior who had tried something? He didn't relish the broken bones, but even more so he feared a broken friendship.

“Soul?” she said. He turned to look at her, snapped out of his reverie.

“Did you want something from the kitchen?”

Apparently he had missed the end of the movie, and it was time for a snack run.

“More soda?” he asked. Maka smiled and nodded.

After a few minutes (Black*Star spilled half of one of the sodas across the kitchen floor, and he made a production of cleaning it up gallantly), everyone was settled back into the couch. Maka handed Soul his drink, and he gulped it down; the popcorn had made him thirsty. Liz put the next movie into the DVD player.

Maka was pressed against Soul's arm again. He chewed the inside of his cheek while gazing glassy-eyed at the screen. Making up his mind, he turned his head.

“Can I ask you something?” he murmured.

“Mmm?”

“Are you a cuddler?”

Maka looked at him through the dark, half of her face lit up by the movie playing behind her. Her eyes were wide (how could anyone ever have such big eyes?) and smiled. “You caught me,” she whispered.

“Oh, for the love of-- Either starting mackin' it or shut up! You two are so annoying!” Patty cried.

Maka let out a squeak and slapped a hand over her mouth. Black*Star guffawed. She turned away from Soul, keeping her eyes firmly on the screen, but after another few minutes she had eased back against him and he had slipped an arm around her shoulders.

 

* * *

 

Soul leaned against the wall of his parents' dining room, his features twisted into a scowl. He was dressed in his best pinstripe suit, feeling itchy and uncomfortable. There was a high-pitched laugh from one of the guests, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Wes hadn't come home for Thanksgiving; Soul wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. As it was, however, he was the only person at his parents' dinner party under the age of 35. He clutched his glass of sparkling apple cider (so fucking pretentious) and tried not to scream.

He felt a vibration in his pocket. He had been getting texts all day from his friends wishing him a happy Thanksgiving (or in Patty's case, **HPY TRKY DAY** ), and as he withdrew his cell phone, Soul was unsurprised to see Maka's name on his screen.

**How is your Thanksgiving?**

**sucky. urs?**

**Pretty uneventful. I'm heating up some soup right now and finishing a book.**

**wait what?**

**What what?**

**do you not do thanksgiving?**

**Not really. Not since my mom left. My dad is pretty hopeless in the kitchen. He's just watching football.**

**so ur not even having a real meal?**

**Soup is a real meal!**

**wanna come over for turkey?**

**Are you sure that's okay? Isn't Thanksgiving supposed to be family only?**

**my parents always have a big dinner party there's plenty of food and strangers**

**Are you positive?**

**yeah come get some food**

Soul was surprised at how quickly she texted back: **Okay!**

He made his way to the kitchen where his mother was overseeing the food preparation. _She_ never would get her hands dirty by actually cooking, but she lingered there to watch the housekeepers so that she still could claim it was “hers.” The women who cleaned their house every other week also cooked on all the holidays in the Evans house; Soul's mother simply got to play hostess all night.

“Mom,” he said, and she turned to look at him, holding her glass of wine aloft.

“Yes?”

“Uh, I invited a friend over for dinner. That okay?”

She pursed her bright red lips, lines forming around her puckered mouth.

“You already extended the invitation?”

“Yeah. She's on her way.”

“She?” Soul winced at the tone of her voice. “Well, I suppose that's all right. Did you tell her that it's a formal affair?”

Soul felt his stomach drop. _He_ didn't care what Maka wore, but he didn't want her to suffer his mother's disapproving looks all evening. He lurked near his front door for about twenty minutes until the doorbell rang, and he wrenched the door open.

Maka was dressed in a pressed button down shirt and a long skirt, more modest than her usual outfit that showed off her long legs. She looked a little startled to see Soul's full suit.

“Wow, you're dressed up.”

“Yeah, sorry, my parents are... kinda formal.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But don't worry about it.” He motioned for her to enter the house, and she hopped over the threshold.

Soul's mother appeared, the pearls on her neck matching the wide smile on her face. “Well hello there,” she greeted. “You must be Soul's friend.”

“Maka,” she said, smiling.

“You're welcome to join us for dinner. Does your family not celebrate Thanksgiving?”

“Not really, no.” Soul gestured towards the appetizers, and Maka's eyes lit up. “Wow, there's so much food!”

“Help yourself,” his mother said. Maka grabbed a small plate and started spooning different bits of food onto it. Soul's mother hesitated, looking like she wanted to keep talking, but Soul moved between them, cutting her off, so she moved back into the kitchen instead. Maka turned to find Soul standing closer to her than she expected, her fingers in her mouth as she licked them clean of spinach dip.

“Don't eat too much,” he chuckled. She smiled around her fingers.

“You know I have a big appetite.”

He laughed. “Yeah, yeah.”

Maka giggled, then reached for more food.

They lingered by the table for a little while, listening to the din the other guests made in the living room. Soul's mother managed to sneak in for snippets of conversation with Maka, asking her about school and about hobbies and about music, to which Maka had to admit very little knowledge. Finally, one of the housekeepers poked her head out to murmur something, and Soul's mother happily announced that dinner was ready.

Soul kept knocking elbows with Maka as they ate their meal silently, squeezed into a spot at the table originally meant for one person. There was turkey, of course, but there was also large dinner rolls shining with butter, warm stuffing, cranberry chutney, apple chutney, maple-glazed ham, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, butternut squash, sweet potatoes glazed with brown sugar, steamed broccoli, steamed green beans, corn on the cob, mashed turnip, and caramelized onions. Maka's eyes went as wide as her dinner plate as the food was spread out in front of her, looking youthful and out of place among the richly dressed guests.

The buzz of conversation around them drowned out anything Soul might have wanted to say, not to mention that large crowds tended to put him in a sour mood as it was. Maka glanced up and down the table, taking in everyone's extravagant clothes, chewing thoughtfully. Some people did give her curious looks when she cleared her plate of the mountain of food she had piled onto it, and Soul fought back a grin. He was pleased that Maka did not seem intimidated by anyone there, only mildly intrigued.

Once dinner was over, Soul stood. “We're gonna go up to my room before dessert,” he said, looking at his father. The older Evans nodded, peering over his glasses at his son.

“Leave your bedroom door open,” his mother admonished, and some of the guests tittered. Soul scowled, gently guiding Maka along in front of him as they left the dining room and ascended the stairs.

“Sorry,” he said, finally feeling free to talk. “I hate these things.”

“No problem,” she said lightly, her feet making padded footsteps on the carpeted staircase.

He motioned to a door and they entered. “Wow, this is your room?” she asked, sounding surprised.

Soul glanced around. He was shocked she liked what she saw; his parents always accused him of his dark and gloomy taste. A black and red checkered bedspread covered his queen-sized bed, and he had posters of jazz musicians spread across his walls. His guitar was propped up in one corner, and in another stood an empty hamper surrounded by dirty clothes. His desk held his laptop, and Soul approached it to turn it on.

“We should work on your musical education,” Soul teased.

“Fine, fine,” Maka said, sitting on the end of his bed primly.

He opened up his music folder on his computer (it was by far the largest amount of data and always took a few extra seconds to open properly) and scrolled through his songs, feeling suddenly nervous and put on the spot.

“Here,” Soul said, motioning forward and dragging the chair away from his desk. Maka sat in the chair, Soul leaning over her to click open a file.

“We'll start with this,” he said.

“What is it?” Maka asked.

The file opened in a music player, and gentle acoustic guitar riffs began, followed by light tambourine jangles. “'Slide,'” he said.

**_Could you whisper in my ear_ **   
**_The things you wanna feel_ **

Soul's hand rested on the back of the chair as he and Maka stared at the screen.

**_I wanna wake up where you are_ **   
**_I won't say anything at all_ **

The back of her neck was curved toward the screen, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck lit up white by the glow it gave off.

**_Don't suppose I'll ever know_ **   
**_What it means to be a man_ **

Maka leaned back slightly to press against the fingers that were wrapped around the back of the chair.

**_And I'll do anything you ever dreamed to be complete_ **   
**_Little pieces of the nothing that fall_ **

Soul put his other hand on Maka's shoulder, and gave her a gentle squeeze.

**_Put your arms around me_ **   
**_What you feel is what you are_ **   
**_And what you are is beautiful_ **

She put her head against his outstretched arm and sighed.

**_Why don't you slide into my room_ **   
**_Just slide into my room_ **   
**_And we will run away, run away, run away_ **

The song finished, but neither of them moved for several minutes, ears ringing in the silence, nerves noting every inch of warm contact between them.


	4. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally wrapping this story up! This last chapter is dedicated to Eis, for her amazing artwork that inspired this entire story. I'm so glad she allowed me to explore it! Thanks Eis!

**December**

Soul stepped over the threshold, his breath puffing out in front of him like a wisp of smoke as he sighed, finally getting into the warmth.

“You're letting all the hot air out!” Maka said teasingly. He grinned up at her a little numbly, his face frozen by the biting wind. “You brought the stuff?” she asked, eying the plastic bag clutched in his mittened hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a sniff. He surreptitiously wiped his nose with his sleeve. “You're about to learn what _real_ hot chocolate tastes like.” Soul stomped his boots on the mat to shake the snow off, then leaned down to untie them. He tried not to stare at Maka's legs, which were now at eye-level. He had thought that with the colder weather, she would have been forced to start wearing pants, rather than her usual skirts, but instead she had only added brightly colored leggings to her fashion repertoire. It startled him how equally distracting her legs were even when wrapped in blue or red or green, which was what she was currently wearing. It matched her overlarge black Christmas sweater, with white reindeer leaping across her chest against a forest of small evergreen trees. Soul managed to move his gaze to her face, only to discover her watching him closely.

“Your cheeks are all red,” she said.

“'Cause I was out in the cold!” he protested, sliding out of his boots. He was a step below her in the small mudroom, conscious of her studious stare. Maka held out her hands and pressed them against his cheeks. She smiled slowly.

“Your nose is all red, too.”

“Guess we need to warm me up with some hot cocoa.”

“Guess so!” she said, her hands falling from his face, her long sleeves rolling over them as she turned on her heel, and he entered the house behind her.

They stepped into Maka's bright kitchen, and Soul set his bag down on the kitchen table. He began to peel away the layers of his coats and sweaters, laying them over the back of one of the chairs. Maka bustled around the stove, lighting the burners and pouring milk into a saucepan.

“All right,” Soul said, his face finally starting to warm up. “Whose cocoa are we having first?”

“You said yours was minty, right?”

Soul scoffed. “If by 'minty' you mean 'nectar of the gods of mint', then yeah.”

“You sound like Black*Star.”

“Don't say that.”

Maka grinned over her shoulder at him. “In any case, we should probably have mine first.”

She started pulling ingredients out of cupboards. Soul watched her, not paying full attention, but he straightened as he saw her grab a small bottle. “Is that cayenne pepper?” he asked incredulously.

Maka smirked wickedly. “You'll see.”

“What the hell kind of hot chocolate takes _cayenne pepper_?”

“My kind,” she said simply. “Stir the milk so it doesn't stick to the bottom.”

Soul snorted, but obeyed. Maka lined up her pepper, cinnamon, and vanilla extract in a neat little row on the counter, the only sounds in the kitchen the domestic clinking of glass bottles, the hiss of the gas stove, and the slow bubbling of the milk.

“Oh, I brought my own vanilla 'cause I wasn't sure if you'd have any,” Soul said, eying her ingredients.

“Why would I not have vanilla extract?” she asked. “We made cookies two weeks ago, we _used_ it!”

“I know, I know, I wasn't thinking,” he said, and she hip-checked him lightly. She leaned over his shoulder, watching the milk slowly turn in the pan.

“Uh, aren't you forgetting something?”

“The chocolate!” Maka yelped, and Soul laughed as she scrambled to find the powder mix. She pulled out a large can of store brand cocoa powder. Maka measured all her ingredients and threw them into the pot, Soul stirring dutifully.

“Okay, I think we're good,” she said, producing two mugs from the cabinet. She put the mugs in the sink and poured the steaming hot cocoa into them (“don't spill don't spill _don't spill_ ” “Soul, you are _so obnoxious_ , stop poking me!”) and set the empty pot back down on the stove.

“Prepare to be amazed,” she said smugly, carefully lifting the two mugs out of the sink. They took them to the little table and sat facing each other. Their fingers were clenched tightly around the handles of their respective glasses. Maka was smirking at him, and the way she perched over the table, ready to swig down her cocoa, made him think of a pirate. “Drink!” she commanded, and the comparison became even more apt.

“It's too hot,” Soul groaned, and Maka rolled her eyes.

“Blow on it,” she said flatly. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, stop that!” she demanded, her face turning red.

After a few minutes more of moaning, Soul managed to take a sip. “Whoa!” he said, smacking his lips together. “That has a zing!”

Maka giggled. “That's the point!”

They chatted amiably while they finished their hot cocoa. They discussed their classes, their friends, and what they wanted to do over winter break. Maka said she wanted to finish a number of books, and Soul teased her for being a nerd. Soul said he wanted to see the latest action movie, and Maka teased him for being “such a guy.” As soon as the last drop of chocolate disappeared down his throat, Maka leaned forward eagerly.

“Whatcha think?”

“Hmm,” Soul said, pretending to be contemplative. “Pretty gross. Never had something so disgusting in my life. Absolutely-- ouch!” Maka smacked him on the hand (the only part of him she could reach) with a paperback. “Where did you even _get_ that--”

“What did you think?” Her tone threatened more book-induced injury.

“Maka. It was delicious. I was just messin' with you.”

“Never insult a man's hot chocolate,” she said, a glint in her eye. “Or a woman's. Or anyone's.” She gave him a pointed look. “Your turn. And even though your cocoa won't be as good as mine, I won't tell you that.”

Soul chuckled as they approached the sink again. He quickly rinsed the large saucepan and placed it back on the stove. Maka poured more milk into the pot and handed him his plastic bag. Soul pulled out his own set of ingredients, the glass bottles still cold to the touch after having been outside. He placed his peppermint, vanilla, and cinnamon on the counter as Maka stirred the milk this time.

“Check this out,” he said proudly, producing a small canister of powdered chocolate from the bag. “Highest quality cocoa, imported from Switzerland. Very good stuff.”

Maka made a noise of appreciation. Soul set it on the counter, struggling with the lid. “Hmm,” he said, trying to slip his short fingernails under the lid. “Hold on.” He tried to get more leverage by standing on his toes.

“Want me to get it?” Maka asked, still turning the milk.

“No, I got this.” Soul tried twisting the lid, but it was stuck fast. “Fuck. Hold on.” He grunted as he placed the can between his knees to hold it steady. The lid didn't budge. “Okay, wait one sec,” he said, grabbing a butter knife from the counter and trying to use it as leverage. “Wait.” He pounded the top of the canister with the end of the knife in an attempt to break it. “Dammit!” he said, slamming the can down on the counter with a wide swing.

The top burst off and powdered cocoa was flung up into the air. It covered the cabinets, the counter, Soul's face and shirt, and Maka's left side. He coughed and a little puff of brown powder curled from his lips. Maka burst out laughing.

“Ha ha,” Soul said over Maka's peals of laughter, grateful for the layer of chocolate dust hiding his burning blush. He grabbed a dish towel and tried to wipe up the counter, though all he really succeeded in doing was spread the powder around. Maka had her face in her arms on the counter, hiccuping with laughter. Her foot pounded against the ground weakly as she let out ragged giggles. “Are you done?” he asked petulantly.

“Ahhh,” she wheezed out. “Maybe.” She straightened, resuming her stirring. “Is there enough left to use?” she chortled.

“Yeah,” Soul grumbled. He measured out his ingredients while Maka wet a towel and began to mop up the mess. She brushed her sleeve off and turned to Soul.

“Close your eyes,” she said, and he obeyed. He felt her rub the wet towel across his face. She started giggling again, and he sneered at her. “Okay, you're good.”

He opened his eyes to find hers in his line of sight. She was still grinning.

“I think the cocoa's done,” she said.

Soul turned the heat off and repeated Maka's process of pouring the cocoa into the mugs (“I _would_ tell you not to spill, but it's a little late for that” "Shut up Maka") and they helped themselves.

They sat down at the table again, cradling their newly filled mugs. “You should have seen your face,” Maka said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Soul, slouching lower in his chair. He smiled up at her shining face. “Pretty funny?”

“Hilarious.”

“Try the cocoa.”

She sipped lightly at it. “Mmm!” she squeaked. “That's delicious.”

Soul gave a loud slurp as he drank his. “Right?”

“Y'know, it makes a good combination,” Maka said thoughtfully, looking across the kitchen at all their little bottles on the counter, lined up like chessmen ready to play a game. “My hot and spicy cocoa followed by your cool and minty one.”

“The perfect combination,” Soul said, taking another sip.

“Cheers!” Maka said, clinking their glasses together.

 

* * *

 

“You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to, right?”

“I want to.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“You're posi--”

“Sit, Maka.”

Maka slid onto the piano bench next to him, gazing at him with rapt attention. Soul nodded at her, keeping his eyes on her face. It was the only thing worth paying much attention to in the room; everything else was as it always had been. The heavy drapery hung on all the windows of his parents' music room was pushed back to allow the watery winter sunshine in, the polished hardwood floor was gleaming from disuse, and the other instruments were lined up neatly against the wall, like a silent, watchful audience. But Maka was the only critic he cared about at the moment.

“I wrote this myself,” Soul said, turning to gaze at the piano keys below his fingers. She made a hum of acknowledgment, and he placed the pads of his fingers to the keys. They were cool to the touch, tiny imperfections apparent only under his practiced hands. He liked that this piano was no longer perfect, liked that his parents had no idea that his fingers had worn slight grooves into the ivory with use, the oil of his fingers writing his story into unmarked keys. And he liked that Maka was watching him intently, as if she concentrated hard enough, she might finally understand music.

He pressed down with one finger, slowly and gently, and the key made no noise of protest.

Soul lifted his fingers again and began to play in earnest. The haunting notes floated into the chilly air, dancing delicately as he guided them into a melody. His hands ghosted over the keys, his concentration on hitting the right keys at the right time.

As he played, he slipped into an almost trance-like state, and imagined pouring his soul into the music, channeling himself through the keys under his fingers. His playing grew louder and more forceful, almost erratic at times, and he stopped focusing on his style and form, his blood pumping through him like lightning.

Soul finished the piece and the last note lingered in the air, vibrating long after his hands lifted from the keys. He took a deep breath, feeling almost as if he had been through a warzone. He had played at more recitals than he could count, but he had never felt as nervous as he did now, turning to finally look Maka in the eyes.

She started clapping. “That was great!” she said enthusiastically. Her claps seemed loud and out of place, echoing in the tiny room. “I really, really liked it. I mean, I didn't really get it, but I liked it.”

He grinned toothily at her. “As long as you liked it.”

“I did! I can't believe you wrote that yourself. How were you able to do it?”

He didn't tell her that it was easy to write after hearing her tinkling laugh, watching her hair slip over her long smooth neck as she leaned against the couch, smelling her strawberry shampoo, feeling her fingers entwined with his.

 

* * *

 

Maka pulled into the darkened parking lot, gravel crunching under the tires of her car. The headlights swung out over the pond, illuminating the layer of ice that had formed at the surface.

“Yes! It's frozen over!”

Soul peered through the windshield of Maka's car from the passenger's seat. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, look at it. Plus there're some marks from where someone else went skating, you can see the lines.”

Soul shrugged. “If I fall in, you have to fish me out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're not gonna fall in.” She shut the car off, and the glaring lights went dark. The lighting changed from a harsh yellow to a soft blue as the full moon bathed everything in a cool glow. Maka pulled her mittens back on and she struggled out of the car, bundled up against the cold. For once, Maka was wearing pants over her leggings for extra warmth, but her hair remained in its signature pigtails, her ears covered by large earmuffs.

Soul was similarly dressed for the cold. Maka had told him he ought to wear long johns under his jeans in case he fell on his backside (which he fully expected to) to soften the blow.

They struggled out of the car and grabbed their ice skates. There was a bench overlooking the small pond, and they both sat down to switch their footwear. Soul was using a pair of Maka's father's skates, and they were a bit tight once he laced them up, but it was the best they could do.

They both stood up and clomped carefully to the frozen edge of the pond. They managed to get onto the ice without any problems, but Maka was still much more graceful than Soul. Maka had been right; the surface of the ice was milky with the grooves of other skaters. They clasped hands, as naturally as if they had been doing it their whole lives, and made their way around the edge of the pond. The surface was rough and uneven.

Maka seemed reluctant to break the silence of the winter air, and Soul was content to enjoy her company, their gloved hands holding each other's tightly.

“I really like this pond,” Maka said after awhile. “I love that this neighborhood is so quiet.”

“Yeah, pretty cool. And pretty popular,” said Soul, indicating with his free hand the grooved ice.

“Lots of people bring their kids here. Plus if there are sticks under the ice when it freezes, it can cause bumps. But it's a really nice place.” She turned to face him. Her lips were curling into a smile. “It's really-- oof!”

Maka pitched forward, and in an effort to remain upright, grabbed onto Soul's leg as she fell. His arms shot out, but he managed to stay standing. Maka was curled around his leg, looking flabbergasted.

“Speaking of bumps,” Soul laughed, throwing his head back as Maka glared up at him. She released his leg and shifted below him. Soul tried to stifle his chuckles, but offered her a hand. “Need help?”

“Thanks,” she said, using his hand as leverage to stand again. She grinned at him and shoved a mittenful of snow into his face, his nose burning in protest. He spluttered as he wiped the powdery snow from his face.

“Oh, it's so on!”

Maka and Soul flung themselves sideways off of the ice and into the snow drifts that had accumulated around the edge of the pond. The dry powdery snow was not ideal for packing, but they managed to lob snowball after snowball at each other, their laughter echoing across the empty pond. Soul received two more snowballs to the face, but managed to pay Maka back with a very well-aimed smack to the back of her head while she tried to pack another weapon. Their arms grew heavy as they panted loudly, their smoky breaths wafting into the air in front of them.

Soul received another snowball to the ear and the snow fell from his hands. He grinned at her, and started crawling towards her. “No!” she screeched, trying to pack together another snowball to stave off his onslaught. He was a little clumsy – it was difficult to crawl with skates on – but he grew closer and closer, listening to her shrill giggles, like a shark closing in on his prey.

He flung himself forward only to land face first in the snow. He had misjudged the distance in the dark. Maka let out a happy shriek and scrambled onto her feet, sliding out onto the ice. Soul got up and shook himself, flailing to get his feet under him and pursue her.

Maka almost made it to the other side of the pond before Soul caught up with her, though he knew it had more to do with how she was laughing too hard to skate properly rather than his own skating prowess. This didn't stop Soul from wrapping his arms around her and using his momentum to send them crashing into the snow bank on the edge of the pond.

She gave him a startled look from the snow, then burst out laughing again, her thin frame vibrating underneath him.

“Caught you,” he said triumphantly.

“I guess you did,” she said, still giggling.

Soul could smell the snow wreathed around her hair. Maka's cheeks were flushed with cold and exertion, and there were tiny snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes. His heart was pounding in his chest. He still had his arms wrapped around her. She smiled up at him, and he felt something stir within him, and leaned forward.

Their lips brushed together. Soul barely felt anything; he was too numb from the cold. He opened his eyes to look into Maka's, and he saw a warmth there that seemed to melt the snow around them, and he closed his eyes again and pressed against her with more force. Her lips were chapped from being outside for so long, but they warmed up the longer they rested against his. He felt a fluttering in his stomach. He had _no idea_ what he was doing – all he knew was that this was one of the best things he had ever done and he did _not_ want to mess this up – but Maka turned her head a little and their lips seemed to fit together better and he stopped thinking.

He moved his mouth gently against hers, tightening his hold around her waist. Their lips parted with a light crackle. Maka wriggled underneath him until he loosened his grip and she freed her arms. She reached up to rest them on his shoulders, smiling up at him. He couldn't help the oversized grin that spread across his face. Her eyes were soft as she leaned up slightly to join their lips again. Soul responded by turning his head again to adjust their angle and deepen the kiss, listening intently to the tiny sounds their mouths made together and the way her breath felt against his skin.

The moon glowed gently overhead. A screech owl perched in the pines called a soft warbling song into the night, and in the distance, his mate returned his song, hooting contentedly.


End file.
